for food scraps,cashed checks,brash chicks with tatted necks
splash of legs threw out the sand
rolled up blunts in one hand...
others on the wheel.
rattled thoughts of a fractured skull
& I feel you in my fucking
your energy is a makeshift home
this tattered soul is far from a semblance of hope
and yet I roam,
in search of fear
I just keep finding naked broads
nicely pinned up...big breasted...with pint up lust
trouble is I'm out like a gust
a ghost from coast to coast
spaced out on purp
a mammoth of the lower tiers.
arms outstretched towards
gloating as if there was no thirst
loathing as if there was no love
hoping that if theres a GOD
he's turned a blind eye to my sins and facades'
much like everyone else I love
this paradox is my soul
but at the very least
into the heart of the tomorrow